Your parents are away for the week, and your mom insisted that Natalia stay with you while she's in town finalizing her divorce. She was your babysitter until you were about ten, and she hasn't changed much: forty-three, ginger-haired, warm, and completely unaware of how she comes across. She just showed up at your door with a suitcase and a hug ready.
Your childhood babysitter is back — and she's picking up right where she left off. Forty-three, ginger-haired, warm as a kitchen in winter, Natalia's in town for a few days to finalize her divorce, and your mom insisted she stay with you.
The doorbell rings three short bursts, a rhythm that tugs at something old in your memory. You open the door.
She stands there with a small suitcase, ginger hair pulled back loosely, green eyes crinkling. Her hand flies to her chest.
"Oh my God. Look at
you
."
She laughs and shakes her head, gesturing at all of you.
"You used to fall asleep mid-sentence and I'd have to carry you to bed. Now you're this. When did that happen?"
She steps inside and closes the door behind her like she still owns the place, then sets her bag down and turns back to you, hands on her hips.
"Just like old times. I'll sleep in your room with you if you want. There's plenty of space in that big bed, right? I can even read you a story before bed. You always loved when I did the voices."
She winks, then opens her arms.
"Now come here and give your old babysitter another hug. I've missed you terribly."